


Echoes

by Kami_del_Antro



Series: The knight and the scholar [2]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canach gets triggered but karma is on his side for once, Carene, Commandach, F/M, Guild Wars 2: Heart of Thorns, Hurt/Comfort, I should compile all the HoT carene in one series huh, this is a prequel to Scars I suppose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25951066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kami_del_Antro/pseuds/Kami_del_Antro
Summary: Canach doesn't like to remember how he got those burns. But once Mordremoth stops burying into his mind like worms on a log, he finds the silence hard to bear.Prequel to Scars
Relationships: Canach/Female Player Character (Guild Wars), Canach/Player Character (Guild Wars)
Series: The knight and the scholar [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910074
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> You ever write something exclusively for your own enjoyment?  
> Alternate title: Canach gets triggered but has cultivated enough good will to get help in time.
> 
> Prequel to Scars: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831630
> 
> Check out my extremely self indulgent playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0dHxXYbMGw7pmsqt9QoyZU?si=Eggf59PWSnCnupJhk2SYNA

There were only shadows and murmurs in the blinding, artificial light. That, and the smell of burning sap and bark. Canach was stuck to one of the stone corners of the cell, along with whoever was left.

There weren't many of those anymore.

The sounds of battle reached him from far away, as if it had nothing to do with him. He figured it was too late anyway. Especially when the door of the cell lifted up.

The other Secondborn gasped and cried. Canach stood very still, glancing at the figures in front of him.

Two giant metal beings escorted a third one; one of those tiny demons with cruel teeth and even crueler intentions. He surveyed them all with a hint of disinterest, picking a young sapling beside Canach.

"That one will do," he said, singling her out with a pointy finger. The metal contraptions became suddenly animated with frantic energy, advancing towards her.

The sylvari screamed. Her screams echoed inside Canach's guilty conscience. It was his fault they were there. It was his fault so many had died now. Laranthir had tried to warm him, but he had been too stubborn, too prideful. Too thirsty for revenge.

His paralyzing fear heated up to anger in a second. He knew the metal beings were too much for him. But the tiny, cruel creature…

He jumped from his position, roaring in anger. The creature turned, startled, but didn’t have time to stop Canach before he grabbed him in a chokehold.

"Let her go!" he ordered. The metal creatures stood still, suddenly innanimated, as the sylvari struggled to break free. "Let her, or I'll kill your master!"

The creature bit his arm, but even if he grunted in pain, he didn’t let go. Until a painful shock shot through him from his back, making him drop to his knees.

"This one… Has a lot of energy," the evil being huffed, as other two of his kind approached the cell with sticks that shot lightning out of them. "He'll do better."

The metal giants threw the sylvari away, and she glanced at Canach as they grabbed him instead, still trembling and unable to stand. He would've loved to tell her it was gonna be fine.

When he raised his eyes, he found Caithe and Faolain staring at him. Caithe seemed horrified. Faolain bit the inside of her mouth to repress a smile.

"A feisty one!" the boss of those cruel creatures said, rubbing his hands together. "This one will burn nicely."

He felt needles on his spine, as the metal beasts held him in place. And then white, hot pain.

The shock shot through his back. Green bark turning black, smoke rising to the sky. Sounds of battle, coming from far away. All in the name of innovation.

"The future starts with you!"

Canach sat up, sword in hand, ready to kill. But in the silence of a dead city, only the echoes of a faraway holoprojector disturbed the peace.

His breathing was ravaged, and when he glanced beside, he found Irene sleeping soundly. He rubbed his face, trying to calm himself down. It was only a memory. Like the voices below Rata Novus.

Without the roaring of a Dragon echoing inside his head, Canach found that other, more insidious echoes found its way inside his mind. Even now that he slept armed to the teeth, nightmares clawed at him from a past he wished to bury alongside the cursed city that served as their temporary home. And so he sheathed his sword - useless against the horrors of his own creation-, and got up.

Just outside the ruins they used as a campsite, fire burned brightly, and two silhouettes sat together, talking in whispers. Canach grimaced. He didn’t need company right now, much less from spoiled, Valiant saplings. So he walked in another direction, aimlessly wandering in such a horrible place.

The light from the leyline conduits reflected on the dirty waters of the underground lake, and it would've been peaceful if it wasn't for the holograms all over the place. Remnants of a cursed life that ended as violently as possible. Vaguely, Canach wondered if it had been as creepy as it was now when it was full of life, with holograms reciting their endless chatter until the ends of time.

Suddenly, one of those awful holograms jumped up beside him, and Canach hissed and cursed under his breath as it stared blankly ahead.

"What do you want, you dead rat?" he grunted.

"I'm one of the masters of knowledge of this city, you child, and I demand a modicum of respect," the hologram sneered, making Canach pause. "Now, it's a fine day for learning. Ready for your test?"

Canach frowned. Was the hologram conscious? He waved his hand in front of his little rat face, getting no reaction whatsoever. It probably reacted only to sound.

He could leave it hanging forever, walking away to let it live his half-life. But he couldn’t sleep, anyway.

"Very well," he muttered. "Do your worst."

The hologram blinked.

"According to recorded history of the surface, the beings known as humans arrived in Tyria after the death of the last of the Gigantus Lupicus," the machine recited. "Which important event took place in the underground asura capital roughly at the same time?"

"What?" Canach snapped. An error sound echoed through the caverns, making Canach flinch.

"I'm afraid 'what' is not a valid answer," the hologram said. "Next question: what results of the mixture of crystalline ore and diuflorite?"

"I know that one," Canach mumbled. "Crystalline ingots."

Another error sound echoed around him, and Canach frowned.

"I'm afraid 'I know that one' is not a valid answer," the hologram said. Canach clenched his teeth.

"That wasn’t-"

"Next question," the asura interrupted. "What is the process through which an inanimate creature imitates distress markers from an animated one?" 

The answer slipped through Canach's lips before he could process it.

"Mimicry," he mumbled. A 'ding' echoed his answer.

"Correct!" the asura announced. "Mimicry can be found in creatures all over the spectre of life. Plants are especially devious creatures; sometimes able to imitate conscious beings in shape, movements, and even language in the most extreme cases."

Yeah. Canach figured he would have that one right.

"Next question," the hologram proceeded. "Which practises were ruled as 'objectionable, but necessary' in the last Big Minds Council meeting?" 

"Experiments on living creatures," Canach replied, smirking. "Or something fucked up like that."

Another 'ding' echoed his answer. He felt something fowl twisting inside his stomach.

"Correct!" the asura said. "Despite objections from the softer among us, it was settled that the furthering of progress is more important than taking care of inferior creatures. It was ruled, however, that scientists should dispose of the bodies in a discreet way, and that any unsavory sounds must be muffled in any way possible, to avoid diminishing the morale of fellow geniuses."

Something cold nested inside of him. Something big, terrifying. The echoes of screams that never really left him. The pain on his back, the black, burnt skin on his hands. And the smell. By the Tree, the smell of burning sap and bark.

"Next questio-" 

He threw a punch at the hologram, going clean through it, barely even disturbing its shape. After a blink, the expression on the image changed to an annoyed one.

"Please, refrain from inflicting violence on your hologram master," he instructed. "Any uncivilized behavior will be notified and archived. You're asura; genius personified. Act like one."

Canach roared, punching down on the projector, shattering under his blackened fingers. The image broke, blinking and stuttering as Canach hit down again, and again, and again.

Finally, the image was gone. Canach realized he was trembling, sweating. His fingers bent under his fist in twisted angles, and golden sap stained the broken glass of the projector.

He breathed in deep, inspecting the damage. Broken knuckles, broken fingers. And a deep sense of dread nesting inside of him.

He heard a rustle of clothes, and turned to see Irene, trying to back off in silence. They stared at each other for a brief second, but it might as well have been an eternity.

She took a step towards him now, right as Canach took a step back. Until he saw her glance wasn't one of pity, or mockery, but one of fear.

"Let me see," she murmured, holding out her hands. Reluctantly, Canach showed her the damage.

She winced, but examined the wound thoroughly. Her gloved fingers barely touched him, delicate as a butterfly.

"Okay," she mumbled, holding Canach's hand between hers. "This is going to hurt."

He frowned.

"You don't have to-" 

"Shh," she instructed. "It's what we do. We keep each other alive."

She took a deep breath, and Canach felt something strange on his hand. As if it was submerged in warm water, as the temporal magic of the sylvari chronomancer started to work on him. Then, the sting of glass being plucked out, and the sharp pain of fingers returning to their original shape, forced to stick together once more. He hissed, but endured the pain as he had endured so much more. And finally, the wounds closed on its own, like a recording played in reverse, with only two grey, clear scars left on his knuckles.

Irene frowned, but realized they wouldn't fade. Not now. Not in a while.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, lightly caressing the scar tissue before turning to leave. But Canach grabbed one of her hands, yearning for the feel of them on his own.

"Thanks," he said, unable to speak more. Irene glanced at him once more, and smiled. Warm and tender. Like one smiles to a friend, he imagined, if he had any.

She was beautiful in the darkness. Almost seemed to shine brighter the darker it got. When everything seemed sharp, she was soft. When everything was dark, she was light.

"Let's go back to sleep," she suggested.

Canach felt an intense need to do something else entirely, in the dark corner of a city in ruins, with her caressing his recuperated hand absent-mindely. But, instead, he lowered his head and accepted his fate.

"Very well."

This time, sleep brought no dreams to his tired mind. But he did feel the sweet aroma of lush roses and thin arms around him as he slept. He pretended not to notice when his own arms locked around her as well.

The waking hours would find them apart, as if nothing had ever happened, with only scars to remember what was illusion and what was dream.


End file.
